


my people are waiting.

by KingLear



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, BAMF Black Panther Women, Bottom Erik, Erik and T'Challa aren't related, Ever - Freeform, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Men Suffering, Mpreg (in the distant future), Mythology - Freeform, No Nakia-bashing, Ratings Will Go Higher, Tags to be added, Top T'Challa (Marvel), slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13830612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingLear/pseuds/KingLear
Summary: N'Jadaka is the only prince of the powerful cult of Sobek; the son of a cult whose influence on Wakandan politics has weakened due to their willing seclusion in recent centuries. T'Challa is the son of T'Chaka, heir to the throne of Wakanda; a responsibility that bares down on his shoulders like anchors. The two princelings meet for the very first time in a rare gathering of the two cults where tensions and animosity peak high, and a political arranged union between the two lay the resolution. Is hope possible in such a fruitless union or does disaster lie in wait for both of them?





	1. headfirst

On the day of their leave for the gathering, his mother, Wadjet, had woken him up with a tender hand running through his tangled curls. He had grumbled into her palm and faced his sleep-slackened face towards the soft linen made of the sheep wool sheared by the gatherers. N'Jadaka would have successfully fallen back asleep had it not been her terse word of warning and a firm tug on his sensitive ears pierced with vibranium that had been blessed kindly in the worshipping altars of Sobek during his younger youth by his queen mother.

"My son, we must prepare to leave soon for the union if we are to hope to make it on time," Wadjet had advised, a matronly smile of amusement on her face as her beloved only son finally heeded her words and began stretching his long back, slender yet muscled under his rigorous training and her watchful eyes. "I have picked out your clothing with much deliberation and hope you choose to not complain about them or the evening."

Inwardly, N'Jadaka rolled his eyes with little-hidden aggravation, he had no place in the political affairs of Wakanda, nor did he have much taste for it. Both royalties fell to his two older sisters who were perhaps much more adept and capable of handling such 'delicate' affairs that he did not care for. It wasn't like the throne of Sobek was to be passed down to him without the aid of some sort of terrible tragedy, so he didn't see much importance in actively partaking in mingling and handling inter-foreign affairs. He spent most of his days in the thick of the forest by the holy lake, surrounded by the sacred crocodiles of his deity, meditating and praying. They'd always been kind and welcoming to him, offering him the raw deer meat when they could or provided him with as much bodily warmth that cold-blooded creatures could give on nights where he chose to sleep outside of the safety of the tribe's camp.

"I can see your eyes rolling but I do not see you changing, N'Jadaka," His queen-mother said, standing up in all of her overbearing authority, her dark blue bangles with protection charms covering her seemingly frail wrists that led people into being skeptical about her involvement in the hard labor that her people did for the sake of the survival of the tribe. Her calloused palms told the truth about how little luxury she languished in, hard and cracked with the tell-tales of a leader, worthy of all acclaim.

"Yes, mother," He droned and finally picked up the different articles of clothing that were so soft underneath his touch that he was mildly afraid that he would slip right under them upon dressing. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked questioningly at his mother, "These fabrics are finer than anything I've ever worn, mother, why is this?"

She instead looked at him in the appraisal at his quick incision of the matter at hand, something that he had surely gotten from her and not N'Jobu. He had always been such a clever child but his judgments were always filtered with one of simple desires and beliefs. N'Jadaka rarely asked for anything that he couldn't have nor challenged anything that he couldn't deliver but his rage could be seen akin to N'Jobu's with its cold fury and underlying malicious wrath.

"The elders wish for an engagement between you and prince T'Challa of the Golden Tribe," She began and his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at her words, the urge to sleep was eradicated as he stood to attention at her words, "It is to ensure peace and unity between the two religions," She said, her arms folded and tinkling sweetly as the bangles brushed against each other at the sudden movement. "They hope to secure a betrothal and a marriage between the two of you as soon as the customs and traditions of each religion are completed."

N'Jadaka stumbled back and felt a bubbling of anger sit between the caverns of his ribs immediately at the new news. He was to marry some... Baby-faced princeling who'd probably never experienced how it was to toil in his entire life. That's what the elders wanted him to do. To fulfill his princely duties instead of just lazing around as he was often supposedly found to do. They probably couldn't even _wait_ to be rid of his presence. They'd never approved of his nature that was more naturally animal than the disposition of a model Wakandan prince. "And this was all decided without my consultation, was it, mother?"

She remained unwavering in face of his hurt emotions with a will made of vibranium. "The prophecy of Sobek speaks of the restoring of peace and tolerance after the holy spiritual union of a child of Sobek and the child of Bastet. We must not take our chances for granted when we have them, N'Jadaka," She said, stepping closer as if to give him comfort, but he only looked away with a stinging in his eyes that begged her to stay back. "The Golden Tribe have received a similar prophecy in the past when you had just been born. The tribal elders of both clans have decided to honor the sanctity of such a blessing after so many years of resentment and undue tension. "

"If such a plan is your desire then I suppose that as your empty vessel I have no choice but to agree," N'Jadaka spat out, his eyes stinging as he tried to focus on anything but his mother's heartbroken gaze.

It was a strange thing to be fighting his mother on anything, he thought, as he watched her regal posture hang her head slightly, despite everything, he always conceded his wishes for her orders. But this wasn't just any sort of wish that could be easily overlooked. His mother had always promised him that his marriage union would be based on love and great fortune. He'd always thought that he'd have some sort say on his husband-to-be, but evidently, as always, fate wasn't on his side. There was a loud silence where neither of them said anything and N'Jadaka could almost hear the songs that the morning birds sang when the sun began to shine down on Wakanda.

The words that he couldn't verbalise, his anger, his fear; they were left unspoken as she left with a parting sentence that had his last bit of bitter calmness collapse like a house of cards against a slight breeze. "Your duty and responsibility for your people will always outweigh your self-agency and free-will, N'Jadaka, you would do well to remember that. Please prepare for leave for the gathering at once, my dearest son, your sisters will be joining us."

His hands balled up the silky-soft fabric in his fist and he tried his hardest to not let his emotions get the better of him as he let her walk out of his space, finally able to hold in the sob that had been threatening to make an appearance all along. He was the descendant of Sobek, the carrier of the fertile powers granted by his merciful God and the son of one of the most powerful priestesses to walk Wakanda if not the entire world. His mother's prowess and magical aptitude had been one of the major components to the further seclusion of the followers of Sobek and now it seemed like there was no point to it at all.

He was to marry some spoon-fed brat who'd likely never suffered at all and spend the rest of his life ball and chained to a hollow palace, surrounded by those who looked down on his folk, where undoubtedly, he would bare the other man heirs until the other man was to be satisfied.

N'Jadaka shivered with disgust; childbirth had never captured him like it did to so many other of his designation; he'd always thought that he'd marry someone as free-spirited as himself.

It had been a foolish hope to believe that the sun would rain down on his face until he joined the ancestral lands, that he would be free from any ties of bondage. He could only imagine the melancholy and loneliness that he had in store for him but he shook his head and forced back the tears as best that he was able to.

First and foremost, he was a prince and that meant that he would fulfill the responsibilities his station required of him. The people depended on him to keep them safe and if their arranged union delivered such a heavy-handed promise with ease, then who was he to argue with the molds of such a perfect prophecy? Sniffling back tears of frustration and anger, he began undressing his usual outfit of a light-weight sky-colored tunic and a loose-fitting pair of trousers, a lingering thought of deep resentment for his would-be King forming like a dark patch on his heart.


	2. the bridge before the verse

"Would you stop fussing with my gadgets, brother, I swear to Bast," Shuri hissed at her brother before turning back to look at the logistics of being able to fix Bucky Barnes successfully. It was no doubt that she would be able to, but she was paving out an efficient plan that would allow the white outsider to heal as quickly as possible to be returned to his waiting Captain. Seriously, she'd grown ill of obnoxious emotionally constipated men after witnessing how much pining that both men did for each other; she was more than tempted to throw the two of them in a locked palace room. Lord knows they wouldn't talk about their feelings otherwise.

Her beloved older brother wasn't helping at all, in fact, he'd even worsened her progress, with his sour mood and growing agitation, his restlessness itching its way underneath her skin as he flittered around her lab, touching the different weapons and equipment that she was working on.

"I am simply observing their capabilities," T'Challa teased as he experimentally threw one of the vibranium-based balls against the wall with a quick flick of his wrist.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Shuri demanded as soon as she heard the slight thump and the consequent yell of pain as the ball bounced harshly against his body. "Haven't I told you a million times to not touch my stuff? T'Challa, you're gonna ruin my tech before I even have the time to study its use in our kingdom!"

T'Challa huffed out heaves of breathing as the heavy ball naturally bounced off his body to collide with it again. He tried moving out of its path but the ball, as if controlled by the magnetic field around his body, followed him in its stead. "Perhaps you would have an easier time studying such weapons if they aimed to maim me a little bit less, my dearest sister."

"Oh please," Shuri rolled her eyes as her gaze flickered to the different lines of coding for what she wanted to test out on the soldier that she'd drafted a few weeks ago but hadn't gotten around to checking its validity and finally implementing it too. "Why are you whining when I have seen you tussle far worse with Okoye and W'Kabi, brother?"

T'Challa winced a little at her nonchalant tone. She wasn't exactly incorrect in her statement but he still wanted to uphold the delusion of an invincible older brother in front of his only sister who'd long outgrown her little hero worship phase that she'd had over him when she was younger. On their own, Okoye and W'Kabi were undeniably capable but often yielded to T'Challa but together? Together, they were the definition of a perfectly well-oiled machine that functioned phenomenally great without any prompting to each other, like the rivulets of water dripping down the side of the waterfall that they used for ritual combats and coronations.

"A little sympathy would be nice, Shuri," T'Challa offhandedly remarked as he finally caught the ball without it bouncing off of his body. Decidedly, he placed the ball back on the table full of mysterious tech that Shuri had crafted for all sorts of different projects that she'd adopted to complete before the new moon later that month. "Especially since it was the work of your own weapon of destruction against your favorite older brother."

"You're my only older brother, that doesn't count," Shuri chirped back, her fingertips rushing across the keyboard at the speed of light as she began tweaking the machine that she was going to have to use to remove the trigger words that were lodged inside of the brainwashed broken white boy. It was going to be a tough project because of the delicate nature of the hippocampus and the different damaged nerve endings that the use of brainwashing had caused and her job had become quadruply harder what with the mess that Hydra had left behind; it was a miracle that the other man hadn't been like scrambled eggs when he'd finally landed in their hands. But she rarely took easy projects to fix and Wakanda owed debts to the captain and his team of misfits that they were going to repay back no matter what the cost.

For now, Sergeant Barnes had to remain in the deep freeze because the risk of letting him loose with all those dangerous triggers in his head was too much of a wager. The other man had even given his consent but she couldn't help but feel a little pity for the man who should have died a long time ago. The sergeant's cells were a downgraded knock-off version of the superhero serum that the captain had running through his veins but they both did similar enough jobs that they could be modeled after one another.

The only problem wasn't even one of lack of time or lack of competent resources; Wakanda was a resource in its own kind and Shuri only needed to breathe in the air to realize the electrifying current of fertility that rang through her beloved country to be able to understand its supremacy over so many other nations. No, the problem was, in fact, that of her brother's fussiness. He rarely intruded into her working space without a plausible reason and if he did, he never lingered too long for fear of intruding in her personal space, something that T'Challa knew that his little sister absolutely hated.

His behavior was a little off-putting given that Shuri knew of the gathering that was to be happening in the palace later that day, and Shuri would bet all of her poker chips that he was wary of opening communications between the two religions because of all the different horror stories that the elders had fed him since the boy was young and barely able to walk.

"Is this about the Sobek tribe coming to the palace, brother?" Shuri finally relented and asked the question that her brother had wanted to breach upon but hadn't a clue in his brain on how to do so. "Are you afraid?"

"I'm not scared of the religion of Sobek, despite what you think," T'Challa sniped a little, a little irritated with Shuri's astute observation. And it was true, the religion of Sobek was well intertwined with Goddess Bastet, and T'Challa had always been mesmerized about the nomadic way of living that the Sobek's adopt but nevertheless he'd always been off-put by their mysticism and strange ways that they chose to live in further hiding in an already hidden civilization. He walked to his little sister and settled beside her as they both looked at the pages of code that his sister was rapidly typing on to either make modifications, additions or scrapping whole sections at a single time. He looked at the way she rolled her eyes at his bull and sighed, "But I am perhaps a little hesitant to open up any diplomatic relations with the religion after such a long period of hostility between the two."

Shuri raised an eyebrow and swiped her code away to the right to whittle away at another day. Her brother looked a tad ill and Shuri couldn't help but wonder what demands her big brother was going to have to meet to be considered a worthy heir of Wakanda by the elders. "Explain," She said, fiddling with her Kimoyo beads, a rhythmic beat that helped her think a little better.

"There are a certain number of announcements that are to be declared in front of both royal courts during the feast," T'Challa struggled with his words as he pondered on all the different ways he was going to be able to tell his sister that he was going to marry for political reasons.

"As there are always, brother," Shuri said, folding her arms as she took notice of how he fidgeted like a child. "What does this have to do with your nervousness?"

"Namely one being that I'm to marry Prince N'Jadaka by the next year," T'Challa looked down at his calloused hands, wistfully thinking of a lifetime where he was not the heir prince of Wakanda. He'd heard from the Dora Milaje guards that Prince N'Jadaka was a wanderlust at heart and hardly settled in one place before he roamed over to another, he was hardly the type to be tied down to anyone or anything. T'Challa wondered how the man was going to cope with being forced to find a home in a palace where he had no allies and no support, he hoped that N'Jadaka would at the very least find comfort with him and Shuri, perhaps even Okoye and Nakia.

"What?" Shuri said, mouth dropping noticeably and eyebrows furrowing. "Brother, you can't go through with this!"

"It is little to do with what I want, Shuri, it is everything to do with my duty to our beloved kingdom," T'Challa remarked, feeling a little gloomier than before at her negative response to his situation. It wasn't the best of situations to be in, he would wholeheartedly agree but the marriage between his mother and father had also not been one based on love but they had still managed to cultivate a deep fondness and a well-developed respect for each other.

"What about you and Nakia, brother?" Shuri spluttered, her frown widening as she thought about how the spy wasn't even on the same continent for the execution of this decision. Nakia was playing deep undercover as the middleman in an operation regarding smuggled ancient Wakandan artifacts that would surely wreak havoc and destruction upon the wrong hands.

T'Challa looked away from her accusatory gaze and thought about the woman he loved and how she would react to his engagement to the prince of one of the most powerful cults. A cult who had the potential to destroy the Bastet royal legacy if they'd decided on doing so. He'd heard the wars and how willingly the Sobek had decided to go into hiding despite being on the winning side of the war. He hoped that Nakia would understand what he was doing but he couldn't help the wistful tang of longing deep in his chest. To know that nothing could ever become of their budding relationship was a hurt that would take time to heal.

"She will understand what I have to do, she always has and she always will," T'Chall thinned his lips into a fraught but visibly weak smile. "Prince N'Jadaka is not the worst I could do after all; it could have been M'Baku of all people."

Shuri scoffed and frowned at the mention of the Jabari warrior in total distaste, "M'Baku is a fool but at least our clans are once again agreeable with each other. Prince N'Jadaka, on the other hand, is a total wild card; no one has seen hide nor hair of him since his birth during the war. We don't know his inclinations nor personality, only rumors and word of mouth; I hope for your sake that he has an agreeable disposition."

"Stop it, Shuri," T'Challa lightly scolded, feeling bad at the sight of her puzzled face, "It is meant to be a harmonious reconciliation like the prophecies have foretold it to be. Our union will bring peace."

"It is certainly the highest hope of the elders," The queen mother spoke as she walked into Shuri's lab with her host of Dora Milaje guards at her side. She was beautiful like always, her golden collar clasped around her neck and folded into the emerald dress that held a small trail behind her and her liege of soldiers walked beside her with faces of blank stoicism.

"Queen mother," Both royal children spoke, bowing their head in a show of giving respect to the one who had nursed and raised them. Queen Ramonda was a good and wise consort to her country, she demanded respect wherever she went and people weren't wont to decline her for what was her queenly rights. To the people, she was the queen but to them, she would always be a mother first. She opened her arms and both of her children rushed ahead to embrace her as best that they could. It had been a while since she'd last been available to freely roam around the palace let alone be in the same country as them what with her husband's failing health and the matters of international affairs and alliances. She was glad to see them and kissed both of their foreheads.

"It is so good to see you both in good health and prosperity," Their mother said, a beaming look of happiness on her face despite her troubles.

"How is baba, mama?" Shuri asked a happy wrinkle on her nose at the affectionate gesture.

"Impatient about returning to his duties," Queen Ramonda shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It is a good thing that he is too incapacitated to do so otherwise he may end up straining himself once again."

"Baba has always been too restless, hasn't he, mama?" Shuri teased, before saying, "Just like T'Challa."

"Shuri," Her mother said in warning but her warning had no sting whilst it was attached to her apparent mirth at her jape. "I would like a word alone with T'Challa."

Shuri rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at her brother as she left her workroom to take a break elsewhere, perhaps the kitchens since it was nearing lunchtime.

"My son," She said, taking his bigger hands in her own, a soft smile on her face at her surrogate son that she'd not carried herself but had held close to her chest and fallen in love with at the first sight of his innocent eyes, "I can't express how proud I am of you and how much more pride you make me feel more and more every day. You are the king that this country will unify under."

T'Challa couldn't help but shake his head, "Baba is a much more capable ruler, I cannot imagine taking his place and filling in the hole that he will leave behind."

"But you will, my son, you will do that and so much more than you think yourself possible," Queen Ramonda contradicted, "You will always have the option of breaking this courtship off. I will not demand you to even give an explanation, my dear heart."

"It is not needed, mother," He shook his head and looked away, focusing on the vibranium ball that had bruised him, slightly rubbing the spot, reminiscent of the pain that it had given him. "I will marry Prince N'Jadaka and bring joy and peace to our kingdom once and for all."

She looked at him contemplatively but did not say what was going on in her head. She opened up her arms once again and he nearly fell into the welcoming warm embrace, murmuring into his ear, "I'm sorry that things have to be this way, my son. I know how much your relationship with Nakia meant to you."

He smiled weakly into her hug and simply immersed himself in the comfort that she provided him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we meet T'Challa for the first time!!!! how was it guys?

**Author's Note:**

> ????? why am i writing this when i have a gazillion other drafts and stories that i need to finish? idk but here, have some angsty TCherik that I've been dyign to write. Also, I've tried to keep my knowledge of the mythology as accurate as possible but it's a toughie when your main source of info is wikipedia and a short attention span. Hope you enjoyed reading this?? (hopefully, I'll write more.)


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